


Patterns

by Nolachu



Series: Patterns [1]
Category: Pocket Monsters | Pokemon (Anime)
Genre: Gen, Shipping is pretty brief, Wakes & Funerals, You could probably read more into it
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-04-01
Updated: 2016-04-01
Packaged: 2018-05-30 13:42:42
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Major Character Death
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,860
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/6426181
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Nolachu/pseuds/Nolachu
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>It had come as a surprise to everyone.<br/>Though in retrospect it they had all seen it coming<br/>Gary Oak may have been one of Ash's best friend, but all too often, he was trapped on the outside looking in.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Patterns

*-*-*

Ash

It had come as a surprise to everyone.

Though in retrospect it they had all seen it coming

He’d heard plenty of stories from and about his childhood rival. Tales of the legends appearing before the boy. Seemingly imprinting on his rival and friends. He’d been lucky enough to even see a few of them himself during his travels.

Not only that, but his rival, his caring, stupid rival had had many a brush with death. He could remember back to the day he watched the boy, all of eleven-or maybe it was closer to twelve? - convulsing and twitching as that magenta-haired woman laughed and electricity thrummed through his body. There was also the hazy half memories of his rival carried off by an enraged Aerodactyl.

That doesn’t even include the nervous whispers of Brock and Misty dragging the boy and his pikachu’s lifeless bodies from under a chandelier. Or May mentioning the moments of paralyzing fear when the boy didn’t appear from under the sea. And then there were those horrifying seconds as the boy soared through the air to his beloved Pikachu only for the two to plummet to unforgiving concrete below, as the world watched in horror.

But all those heart stopping moments could never have prepared him for this moment. Staring down at his childhood friend - turned rival- turned friend lying so-so still in his casket. Wild hair tamed for once. The baseball cap that he had worked so hard to win tucked under his left arm, his beloved Pikachu tucked by his right shoulder, like always.

He took a moment to look at those congregated to mourn Ash Ketchum. He may never have been a Gym Leader or even a Frontier Brain, but he made an impression.

_ The other funerals were surprises too. _

_ In retrospect, they had all seen them coming. _

*-*-*

Misty

She was hauntingly beautiful.

Vibrant red hair, with just a touch of curl. Face smooth and relaxed, so unlike the smirks and sneers of their youth. So unlike the tight controlled expression of the last few months.

The coroner had done an impressive job. He pushed the images of the red head suspended in water, blood floating out from the crack on her forehead, body bloated from the time in the water. The black haired boy and his pikachu, covered in cuts, a halo of blood around his head.

He moved his attention to the remaining Waterflowers. The three sisters sobbing, the eldest clutching Tracey like a lifeline. The two parents, almost awkward among those mourning for the daughter they had barely seen since her infancy.

_ He hadn’t made the connection then. _

*-*-*

Brock

He would never get used to the sound of children crying.

He was sure of that after Brock’s funeral. The sobs and keening cries of the nine children who had lost their brother, who at times was more like a father. The parents, guilt so clearly written on their faces, staring at their oldest son in disbelief.

They weren’t like the Waterflowers, where the parents had seemed so stiff and out of place. Flint and Lola’s presence was far more natural, but the rift was still palpable.

Another accident the coroner said.  _ The poor boy  _ he’d heard murmured.  _ He worked so hard. You can tell he never got over those other two deaths. Not surprised he missed that step. _

_ What a tragedy. Two of Kanto’s Gym Leaders in barely a year. _

*-*-*

Tracey

This was the funeral to finally break the oldest Waterflower.

She’d been closest to her poor baby sister. Been the one to find the body floating in the family’s pride and joy. Been the one to take over for her late sister. Been the one to get married. To have a little daughter of her own.

Been the one to lose her husband a year after her sister.

He remembers the way she cried on her blue haired sister, as the pink haired one held her daughter.

_ He remembered how the Princess of Hoenn stiffened in her lover’s arms. _

*-*-*

May

The thing that stood out the most at May’s funeral was her brother.

Her mourning lover was certainly of note. The way the green haired boy broke to pieces in front of the casket and the carefully arranged roses. His confusion over the way she pulled away, refused his proposals time and a again, only to leave him alone.

But still, there was something about the new only child. The redness in his eyes certainly implied his grief, but the way his eyes jumped across the room. First on his sister, then to the bluenette from Sinnoh sitting among her fellow coordinators, the two Unovans, clearly uncomfortable at their own presence, nearly as uncomfortable as the Kalousion siblings a few rows behind them.

_ He made eye contact with the boy for a moment. The pattern was clear. _

*-*-*

Max

Max’s funeral was the first to have rain.

May’s - how many months had it been again? - had come during the dry season, and was blazingly hot. Ash’s had been a beautifully sunny day.  One of the best that year. Misty’s had rather unremarkable weather if he remembered correctly. Maybe a bit windy? Brock’s had been a bit foggy. Tracey’s partly cloudy.

And here he was, at yet another funeral of Ash’s companions, standing under an umbrella as the casket was lowered into the ground. The boy’s parents crying at the loss of their remaining child.

By his side stood the bluenette, eyes wide- wild - fear and maybe a touch of hopelessness dancing across them. The two stood silently, his arm around her trembling shoulders as the other mourners trickled out of the graveyard.

“It's my time,” she whispered. “I’m next.”

_ I know _ he thought, staring at the headstone.

_ “I’m sorry.” _

*-*-*

Dawn

Dawn’s funeral was one of the smaller ones.

Not the smallest. That was Tracey, with his family so removed that only an estranged sister had made it, and no attempts to bury him outside of Pallet were made.

But Dawn’s was smaller than most. She had no Gym Leader blood to warrant the crowd. And while she was loved, she was no Ash Ketchum.

It might sound bad, but he was surprised to see Iris and Cilan there. He had heard Dawn briefly traveled with them and Ash, but they hadn’t been to Tracey’s. And he hadn’t seen Serena since Ash’s. Bonnie and Clemont had also failed to make appearances at the other non-Gym Leader funerals.

_ When he saw them look at the grave, he understood. _

*-*-*

Iris

This was the funeral he felt least welcomed at.

Ash had been a childhood friend, it would’ve been unthinkable to not attend. And ever since Ash the Oak family’s relationship with the Cerulean and Pewter Gym Leading families had improved enough to make Misty and Brock’s funerals obligatory. And of course Tracey had been part of the Oak team. He’d known Dawn well enough from his time working in Sinnoh. And while he hadn’t known the Petalburg siblings well, their Gym Leader status was enough of an excuse for an Oak to attend.

But Iris’s funeral- you could tell the citizens of The Village of the Dragons resented the League presence at their princess’s funeral. It was required. Iris was a Gym Leader, the Leagues of the world were expected to pay their respects, no matter how impersonal.  

His eyes slid to Cilan, one of the few outsiders whose mourning had been accepted by the Village. He looked so pale, with his dark suit and green hair. He could see that look in the other’s eyes. The same as May. And Max. And Dawn.

And Iris.

_ Resignation. _

*-*-*

Cilan

Cilan’s funeral brought not one fight but two.

He had never heard about Cilan’s parents, though he had never known him all that well to begin with. He’d heard the man had two brothers - nearly identical if not for their eyes and hair- who he was close to.

He definitely hadn’t expected to see the quiet looking bluenette to snap at the trio’s parents. Yelling about how they had abandoned their sons. How they hadn’t cared about all the problems and loss Cilan had gone through until he was dead and buried, just like the dragon girl and the Kantoian boy. All the while the redhead glared at the shocked parents.

The second fight hadn’t been as public as the first. He doubted anyone else had even seen. He only caught it as he returned to the grave after the burial.

He’d been quite shocked to see the two blonds talking angrily among themselves. He hadn’t been close enough to hear their words, but the intent was clear.

_ They didn’t know who was next. _

*-*-*

Bonnie and Clemont

They shouldn’t have worried.

The first double funeral he’d been to. The first parent to lose more than one child in one go. He watched silently as the duo's burly father broke down, sobbing like the children he remembered from the third funeral, the guilt of distance radiating off him like it had for so many others before him.

He left the site of the burial, two fresh graves next to an older one bearing the same surname, to wander further into cemetery. He let his mind drift.

He was broken from the reverie by the sound of Japanese. It was quite shocking. He’d been working in Kalos for the past few years, and he’d become so accustomed to the ambient French.

“Hello Oak, anyone sitting here” the blonde asked, her words tinted by the years she’d spent in Kalos.

“It's been too long Serena,” he answered as she gracefully sat at the other end of the bench.

“Mhmm,” she murmured, looking at the fields dotted with stone. “You know I’m next, don’t you.”

“So you were keeping up with the rest?”

She chuckled dryly, bitterly. “You could call it that.”

“Any last plans?”

“Don’t know… Maybe one last trip to Kanto. The other regions if I have time.”

“To visit-”

“Call it a pilgrimage. An apology for my avoidance.”

The two sat in silence for another moment. He’d like to say they were both reflecting, but who knows.

_ She walked away, confidence in her stride. _

*-*-*

Serena

They said it was riding accident.

She hadn’t been a professional rider like her mother, but she’d integrated it into her performances, and had even given riding lessons. The guilt was clear in her mother’s eyes. A husband and a daughter lost to her passion.

He wasn’t sure how to feel. He hadn’t been sure how to feel since Ash died over six years ago. But it was over now - wasn’t it? They were all dead.

There were no more nervous, bloodshot eyes at the funeral. No more resigned gazes at headstones. No more families or lovers watching their loved ones pull away only to turn up dead.

No more tripping of cliffs, heads smacked against diving boards, trips down stairs, stampedes. No more car accidents, or slips on wet concrete. No more rickety bridges, or crumpled bodies under trees, or faces submerged in the sink. No more experiments gone awry.

No more riding accidents.

Right?

_ Right? _

*-*-*

Gary Oak

**Author's Note:**

> I started this story a little over a year ago. I've been sitting on it for a while, but I figured: 'what better way to celebrate the 19th anniversary of Pokeani than by posting a story when I kill all the main characters? Brilliant!' So, here it is. I have a few ideas for other stories in the universe that show other characters perspectives. I'm still not sure if I'm entirely happy with this story, but I do love it.
> 
> Cross posted on Fanfiction.net


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